Ever hear the music of the spheres? Pythagoras thought he did. Or at least he theorized that the heavens were organized like the earth, in a geometry that you could define and study. Music was another aspect of that model, and the octave intervals that sounded pleasing to the ear represented basic mathematical fractions. He suggested that the planets should be spaced in similar numerical ratios, and therefore, their movements in orbit would resonate sonically-- slower stars at a lower pitch, faster stars at a higher. Who knows, the Pythagoreans might even have been on to something; recently, one astronomer has shown that meteor trails emit low frequency radio waves, which could be picked up by certain things on the ground like pine needles or even frizzy hair and converted to sound just as you see the fiery trail streak across the sky.

I used to hear the music of the spheres from Orbital. Even if their early singles weren't direct recordings of planetary alignments, you could imagine hearing "Chime" or "Halcyon + On + On" at a club in the rings of Saturn. Techno that elegant was practically the reason for the shift to the term "electronica." I remember the confusion when Snivilisation dropped in '94; some rave kids weren't used to such intricate melodic detail and concept albums about societal trends. But two years later, brothers Phil and Paul Hartnoll followed up with In Sides, one of electronic pop music's all-time classic albums, a perfect mix of dancefloor dynamics and emotional intensity.

On 1999's The Middle of Nowhere they seemed to fall off a bit. The beats were still lively but the melodic inventiveness was too often stranded for cheap diva vocals and other sundry fills. Alright, I admit-- their newest project has been like some wretched fairytale stepchild at Pitchfork staff meetings for the last half-year, the target of furrowed brows and disappointed sighs but never quite mentioned by name. But hell, someone had to break the news eventually. The album title is mostly accurate: The Altogether is just that, a bunch of samples and stuff all thrown together. In short, wack.

The lead song actually promises of new directions. "Tension" draws a buzzy bassline from the Bananamen's cover of the 1964 top ten hit "Surfin' Bird" and thrusts it into one of Orbital's hardest floor-fillers. Some sampled rocker dude groans over the bumped-up BPM and a Hartnoll trademark: oscillating synth ululations that freak out all over the equalizer. The other amazing track was stuck at the very end, I'm guessing to put a pretty cover on the rest of the pulp. "Meltdown" may have been prepared for a dance troop in London's south bank, but don't expect Dieter prancing around in black. It begins with this delicious, dirty jungle beat before busting into a concrete symphony of telephones beeping, typewriters clacking and analog whine. It would have fit nicely on either of the companion discs to In Sides.

But then, for balance, the tracks that must have led Sire execs to blow a load: "Waving Not Drowning" recycles an acoustic guitar riff into an infinity of Belle & Garfunkel acid-trip excess. Fold your hands, Hartnolls, you loop like My First Logic Audio. And then there's the atrocity of "Illuminate," a milquetoast synth-pop number to which folkster David Gray (Phil Hartnoll's brother-in-law) lends sappy vocals. Sting is spilling his frappuccino somewhere in frustration that this Welsh guy beat him in such a craven appeal to adult contemporary radio. Only in the clueless U.S. would marketing goons have failed to pipe this into a Wal-Mart near you.

In-between, results are mixed. "Funny Break (One Is Enough)" is too much, really, as Naomi Bedford breaks apart a tribal-techno rhythm with her attempt at lyricism: "This love is drivin' me crazy!" Whatever happened to the wordless ethereality of Alison Goldfrapp's incredible vocals on tracks like "Sad But True?" Instead we get "Oi!" in which Ian Dury's sampled sax wanks along with yet more diva constipation and trance synth-bass so generic Eskimos & Egypt would have been embarrassed to use it on one of their early-90s rave anthems. At least the boutique-friendly subtlety of "Pay Per View" is inoffensive, but it's still by-the-numbers Orbital, nothing you haven't heard before. "Tootled," which is constructed from samples of Tool's "Sober" and anarchists Crass, just rehashes Orbital's collaboration with Kirk Hammett on the Spawn soundtrack. And "Shadows" should have been dumped with the TV pilot it was written for-- the dark Underworld ambience teases, but then enter the operatic wailing. You might dig it if you still have a jones for Apotheosis' "O Fortuna."

Oh, and then there's the "Dr. Who" theme novelty remix. See what I mean? It's not that Paul and Phil shouldn't be allowed to have any fun; it's just that "fun" should never be an excuse for not doing the absolute best you can do. They've also been tossing about the term "for laughs" a lot in recent interviews. But if they think goofing off in the studio is funny, the joke will be on them when not many are laughing along. In ten years, you'll be mistaking their superficial work here for the Chemical Brothers, Crystal Method, or Fatboy Slim's big-beat bullshit. I guess it's a sign that techno has entered the establishment-- as with recent disappointments from U2, REM and Depeche Mode, so, too, with the Orb, Aphex Twin and now Orbital. It's just a shame to hear such a lack of ambition from true pioneers. The duo used to be a focal point around which constellations of sound revolved. These days, they've set their sights on stars with far less luster.

-Christopher Dare, December 12th, 2001